A Knightmare
by Fyrie
Summary: I wanted to experiment with the AKT character voices. This is the result. (Slash implied in a very silly sense)


KNIGHTMARE

Notes: here we have my very first attempt at an A Knight's Tale fic. I decided I would do it this way, just to experiment with character voices, so I didn't have to work with too big a realistic storyline. Plus, hey! Funny! ;D I was writing this while writing an essay - I needed something fluffy to pad my brain and this was it. Oh, and I don't like Jocelyn.

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"That is wew, because I do not want silence in my life," Jocelyn murmured, giving William what was technically deemed as a sultry look. 

"Excuse me," a third voice interrupted the tryst. "What on _Earth_ are you talking about? Will, are you completely insane? The woman can't even speak English properly and you're going into the raptures over her..."

"Jeff..." Seated on his horse in the main hall of the Cathedral, William shifted uncomfortably, as his Herald strolled lazily passed him and looked Jocelyn up and down. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I better come and make sure you weren't about to make an idiot of yourself," Geoffrey Chaucer replied amiably, patting the horse on the neck, then William on the leg. "After all, you are a blond and they are known for not being the brightest stars in the Heavens."

"Jeff," William moaned, in an agonised whisper. "It is my lady...please. Can you be somewhere that...well...isn't here?"

"And miss the chance to stop you making the biggest mistake of your life," Blue eyes twinkled up at him. "Not a chance, William." His eyes returned to Jocelyn. "And what, pray tell are you meant to be?"

Jocelyn looked puzzled. "I don't understand."

"And I find myself overwhelmed with astonishment at that revelation," Chaucer raised his eyes expressively to the Heavens. "Tell me, Lady Jocelyn, where are you meant to be from? Where is your accent from?" She opened her mouth to reply but he raised a hand. "And bear in mind that if you say England, I will have to smack you on the head."

"But I..."

"Please, but when you say 'marked by their silence', it is rather nice to be able to differentiate between the words marked, marred and mild," He gave her a sweet look. "In your case, I think silence might well be the best option."

"Jeff!"

"And well is meant to have at least one 'l' in it, you know."

"JEFF!"

"Will, believe me, women are nothing but trouble," Chaucer gave the Knight a knowing look. "And this one...well, this one looks the type who would have you ride to lose and see you getting hurt simply because of feminine vanity."

"But she is my lady..."

"Well, yes, she is that, although why you can't find someone who can actually speak English without sounding like she has a bag of marbles in her mouth..." Chaucer sighed. "I mean, even Wat..."

"WHAT?"

"Yes, Wat. Even he speaks more...comprehensively than she does, although I would prefer it if you didn't tell him that I said so..."

"You're saying I should make Wat my lady?" William was looking nauseated, confused and a little disorientated.

"Women cloud the head, William," Roland's voice added from the doorway. The trio in the cathedral turned, Chaucer smirking, while William and Jocelyn simply stared in disbelief. "You're better without them."

Clad in a white smock with gold wings on his back, Roland seemed oblivious to the image he was presenting.

"What are you wearing?"

Roland looked down at his outfit. "Well, it was a choice of this or naked, thanks to Master Chaucer losing us all our money, betting on you to win. You lost, because of the woman in front of you..."

"I would not make you lose..." Jocelyn looked stunned.

"Yes, you fonging well did!"

"Wat!"

"You heard!"

William came up short, then shook his head. "I mean, Wat! Your name!"

Wat flashed a glare up at William as he stormed across the floor towards Jocelyn, although his dramatic storming was a little impeded by Kate, who was trailing after him, her arms wrapped around his ankles.

"Don't you start on me, you ruddy bastard!"

Jocelyn said something.

Everyone looked blank except one.

Chaucer looked smug.

"Well, since I'm apparently the only one who caught the Lady Jocelyn's plea for mercy," he murmured to himself, leaning against the shoulder of William's horse. "I do believe this is going to be interesting..."

"And why, I wonder, am I being dragged into this scenario?" It was almost as if an unearthly, sinister music had filled the Cathedral. Adhemar made a mental note to tip his backing orchestra very well indeed. 

"Oh, _wonderful_," Chaucer rolled his eyes again. "William, one of these days, we are going to sit down and have a serious chat with your subconscious."

"Sub-what?" William asked faintly. 

"Geroff me!" Wat bellowed, shaking Kate off his ankle and trying to launch himself at Jocelyn, who was feebly mumbling something that no one, not even Christiana - who was currently being utterly snogged by Roland (Face it, they were far too cute together) - could understand. "I'm gonna fong her! I'm gonna fong her to fonging hell and back again!"

Adhemar studied his nails. "I suppose I am here to make this place look good," he remarked dryly. "After all, with cretins like you, it's no wonder that William is going to abandon his little trophy and run off with me..."

Every single person fell deadly silent, turning towards the man in the gleaming black armour, who suddenly seemed to realise that he had said entirely the wrong thing and that he certainly wasn't wearing the best outfit for fleeing.

"What did you say?" His voice shaking, his face as red as his hair, Wat pointed a violently trembling finger up at the dark Knight. "Say it again an' I'll fonging well smack your head in!"

"Leave off, Wat," Roland panted, coming up for air. "Even if you did hit him, you'd break your fist."

"But Roland...everyone knows that Will...he's ours!"

"What am I?" William asked, looking more than a little put-out that he hadn't been consulted. "A lust-puppet of some variety?"

"YES!" Jocelyn, Adhemar, Chaucer and Wat all answered.

"Oh. Well, I suppose that's all right then..."

"I'll fonging fight you for him!"

Jocelyn said something.

"I think the Lady Jocelyn just said she would fight too," Chaucer translated at the blank looks.

As Adhemar, Wat and Jocelyn took up fighting stances, William looked down at Jeff, who was still leaning casually against the side of his horse. "Aren't you going to fight for me, Jeff?"

"Me, Will? I'm a man of words, not action," His blue eyes returned to the scene playing out before him, twinkling gleefully. "And if they kill each other, it'll save me a lot of effort."

"Oh."

"Oh, don't sound so upset about it, Will," Chaucer patted him on the thigh again. "It should be entertaining to watch, especially since I've heard that Jocelyn is a member of the German women's wrestling team. Did you know their good-luck token is the hair of their armpits...?"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaugh!"

***

Jerking upright, William panted, clutching at his chest. His skin was drenched in a cold sweat and he was shaking hard. 

The tent around him slowly came into focus and he was relieved to recognise that there was no Jocelyn-Adhemar-Wat fist-fight going on in front of him, no Roland dressed as an angel and no...

"Jeff?"

The writer approached the bed, concern on his face. "Are you all right, Will? I heard you shouting from outside."

"Al...oh, yes. I'm fine...bad dream...strange dream..."

Chaucer's lips lifted in a small smile, his blue eyes twinkling by the light of the lantern by the bed. "Bad enough to make you scream like a girl, eh, Will? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Would you be surprised if I said no?"

"Not entirely," Sitting down on the edge of the tent's bed, Chaucer offered the Knight-wannabe a small bottle. "Here. Take a drop, but not too much. It'll calm you down a little."

Knocking back a mouthful of the substance, which burned it's way down his throat, William grimaced. "Good God, Jeff..."

Chaucer chuckled, taking the bottle back. "I did warn you to only take a drop, didn't I?" he reminded the younger man. "Now, do you want to tell me something of this dream that made you cry out?"

Flopping back against the pillows, both hands coming up to fold behind his head, William exhaled a breath. "What wasn't to make a sane person run screaming?" he murmured. "You were mocking Jocelyn, Roland was an angel, Adhemar, Jocelyn and Wat were about to have a bare-knuckle fight..."

"Are you sure you didn't walk in on our celebration party last night?" the writer teased, smiling.

"It does sound rather absurd, doesn't it?" William opened his eyes and looked at the writer, who just laughed softly, his blue eyes glinting. "And there was other stuff going on...crazy stuff..." His voice was growing slurred. "And you..." He looked as if he had just received a revelation. "You have very pretty eyes..."

Chaucer raised his eyebrows, as William's head drooped back on the pillow and a snore escaped him.

"What are we going to do with you, Will?" he sighed, leaning down to brush matted blond curls back from William's forehead. Bending forward, he touched a kiss to the younger man's forehead. "You're mad. Absolutely barking mad."

Rising, he studied the younger man, who was sleeping soundly once again, a little drunk and with a dopey smile on his lips. Chaucer smile slightly and shook his head, before turning and leaving the test. 

He would stay outside, though.

Just in case there was another nightmare, of course...


End file.
